


Scholars Don't Hike

by the trash hero (austinachievers)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Road Trips, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:25:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3509978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/austinachievers/pseuds/the%20trash%20hero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life couldn’t stop because Dorian Pavus was sad.</p><p>But in that moment, Cullen knew he would try everything to make that happen. And he knew exactly where they should go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scholars Don't Hike

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at Cullrian, excuse me while I try to figure out characterization. Also, I might expand this into a larger fanfic because holy mother of headcanons. Also, unbeta'd so apologies for any horrific grammar mistakes.

Tap.

Cullen rolled over, covering his head with a pillow. He was going to cut down that damned branch in the morning.

Tap tap.

A grumble escaped his throat. He had been sleeping just fine until this moment. He peeked open an eye and glared at the burning, green numbers of his clock. 3:06 AM glared back at him.

Tap tap tap.

With a frustrated groan, Cullen kicked at his sheets until they crumpled at the end of his bed. He was going to snap off that damned branch with his two, bare hands at this point. He had to be up in three hours to help his dad with contract work, he didn’t need this bullshit.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.

The blond froze, half out of bed. Okay, branches were not typically that insistent. He crossed the room cautiously, brushing aside the curtains. He bit back a startled yelp, but failed as his foot slipped and his landed hard on the floor. “Are you serious?” 

He expected a chuckle. No doubt his fall had offered some entertainment to the person on the other side of the window. However, his accident was responded to with a few more knocks and a concerned face pressed against the glass.

Cullen clambered to his feet and unlocked the window. Throwing it open, he was greeted with a blast of spring breeze and the body of a certain Dorian Pavus rolling in.

“I thought I was going to be stuck in that tree of yours forever. Abandoned squirrel is not a flattering look for me.”

In the darkness, Cullen couldn’t get a good look at his friend, but the raw scratch in Dorian’s voice felt wrong. “What are you doing here?” He finally asked, rubbing a hand across his face. 

Dorian shrugged as he begun to pace the length of Cullen’s bedroom, hands buried deep in the pockets of his ridiculously tight pants. “You said we were going to hang out on Sunday, so here I am!” He said, voice dripping with false cheer. 

Another breath of spring air snaked its way into the room and Cullen crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Isn’t it a little early to be studying history, Dorian?”

“Bah, perish the thought. Time is relative.”

Rolling his eyes, Cullen crossed the room and flicked the lights on. A hiss escaped Dorian’s throat as he threw an arm over his eyes. “Fasta vaas, Cullen! Are you trying to blind me?”

Before his friend could react, Cullen crossed the room and grabbed Dorian roughly by the jaw. The dark-haired boy slowly lowered his arm and Cullen took in the full extent of what a mess Dorian was.

His perfectly styled hair was in a state of disarray, sticking up in almost every direction possible. His eyes were ringed elegantly with eyeliner, but it failed to hide the evidence of redness. He had been crying. The flushness of his nose and cheeks betrayed that the crying had been done primarily drunk.

“Maker’s breath, Dorian. Please tell me you didn’t drive here.”

“Of course not!” He squeaked in response, shoving Cullen’s hands away. “I walked.”

“That’s four miles at three in the morning. What the fuck happen?” When he had allowed his friend through the window, a seed of concern had been sowed. Now, Cullen was practically nauseous with the worry weighed down his stomach. 

For a long moment, he received no response. Dorian stared down at his feet, gray eyes hooded with defeat. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What?”

“We should drive somewhere. Get away for a while. There’s nothing in this blasted world I need more.”

Cullen swallowed against the lump in his throat. His father had a massive contract to fill in the morning and needed him. Then there was the history test that neither of them could afford to fail. Life couldn’t stop because Dorian Pavus was sad.

But in that moment, Cullen knew he would try everything to make that happen. And he knew exactly where they should go.

“You’re going to need different clothes.” Cullen sighed. 

Dorian was dressed as he usually was. A pair of too-tight jeans that left nothing to the imagination that he cuffed around the ankle to show off a ridiculously colored pair of socks. A plain white v-neck with an elegant jacket thrown over it, and a pair of impractical loafers that made Cullen’s feet ache at the mere sight of them.

“I can’t go home.” The small voice in which Dorian spoke nearly broke Cullen’s heart.

Well, now this was beginning to make sense.

So, he waved a hand dismissively and acted as if he hadn’t heard the lost tone. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t think you own the right clothes anyway.” 

Dorian began to protest, but Cullen expertly hit him with a crumpled pile of clothes. “Is this flannel?” He made a disgusted noise, holding the shirt at arm’s length. “Oh, don’t cover up on my behalf.” 

Cullen chuckled at he pulled on his own shirt. “Shut up.”

“Mmm, never mind. That shade of red is very becoming of you.”

The blond turned his head the hide the blush that crept on his face as he glanced down at his shirt. It was an old, red plaid flannel he had inherited from his father a few years ago. Black patches had been sewed onto the elbows after he had worn away the material in the workshop. He had never thought much of it.

Pulling on a pair of worn jeans, Cullen heard Dorian begin to undress behind him. He didn’t turn around, to allow his friend some privacy. “I’ll need to pack a few things. Join me downstairs when you’re dressed.”

The house was silent as Cullen made his way into the kitchen. Flicking on the smallest light, he set to work pulling out various lunchmeats from the fridge before remembering Dorian’s annoying eating habits. Vegetarians, he thought with a mental eye roll. Peanut butter and jelly it was.

With the preparation of food came a rustle from the living room. Emerging from the darkness, something furry lumbered to sit at Cullen’s side. “This isn’t for you Ser Calenhad.” The teen shrugged at his dog, Cal’s stump of a tail wagging in response. 

For a moment, Cullen allowed himself to wonder how he had gotten into this situation. Making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at three in the morning was not a regular occurrence. All of this—Dorian stuff had all started about a year ago. 

Sophomore year of high school offered no shortage of awkwardness for him. He was gangly and pimply; puberty had not yet allowed him to fill out. The only thing in his life that gave him any cool points was his position on the varsity swim team.

Dorian was the new kid, isolated from the rest of high school society. Honestly, Cullen hadn’t even noticed him at first. One early spring day, he suddenly appeared in class and no one questioned it. Cullen only realized his existence when he was placed at the same lab table as him and Samson. 

And somehow, over that year, Dorian had weaseled a way into his life.

To his right, there was a thump and the mabari immediately fell into a defensive stance. He gave a cautious bark before recognizing the person that stepped blearily into the kitchen. Dorian shifted uncomfortably in Cullen’s oversized clothes. The perfect eyeliner had been rubbed away in a vain attempt to hide the fact that he had smudged it. Crying again, Cullen thought.

He wanted to reach out and gather his friend into a hug, but he knew Dorian would only pull away. Instead, he chose to chuckle as his friend grabbed at the waistband of Cullen’s old, small jeans, barely covering the lime green band of his underwear. “I look foolish.”

“You look fine.” Cullen set aside the knife and reached out toward Dorian’s shirt. He waited for a nod of permission before fixing the blue plaid collar. He shoved the too-long sleeves further up his friend’s tanned arms, expertly cuffing them above the elbow. “Tuck your shirt in, it’ll help. And if it’s not enough,” he unbuckled his belt and slid it out from his waist. It had been more for appearances anyway. “Use this.”

Dorian nodded absently, crossing the room to plop into a chair. Abandoning his quest for food, Cal sidled up next to him, placing his massive head in the boy’s lap. 

“So, you have me change into your clothes, you are making us lunch, this almost feels like a date, but you haven’t told me where we are going.”

Cullen chuckled. “You’ll have to wait and see. You’re the one who suggested a damned trip in the first place.”

The blond knew his friend had a snide remark prepared, but it was cut short, as there were footsteps on the stairs.

The infamous eyes of the Rutherford household squinted against the light, flicking from Cullen and then to Dorian, raising an eyebrow as he recognized the boy’s clothes. “What are you two doing at this hour?”

“We’re going on a little road trip.” Cullen said flatly, averting his eyes. His father was not an angry man, but he was also not fond of his son ignoring responsibility. The blond held up a finger to Dorian, before grabbing his father’s shoulder to lead him out of the room.

Once Dorian was out of earshot, Cullen let his shoulders sink. “Dorian wants to get away for a while, so I’m just helping out. Something is really wrong this time,” he said, voicing his concern for the first time. “I know if I outright ask, he’ll never tell me.” He was about to launch into an apology about skipping out on work, but was stopped as his father gathered him in a hug.

“You have too kind of a heart, Cullen. Help your friend.”

Both of them were aware of the less than ideal circumstances of Dorian’s home life. 

“I was going to take him out to Haven Cliff. I thought he’d like it.” A knot twisted at the bottom of Cullen’s stomach as he spoke. 

His father released him from the hug, holding his son at arm’s length. Haven Cliff meant something to the Rutherford family, and a knowing look passed over his face. This confession, even as indirect as it was, had been a long time coming.

Cullen headed back into the kitchen, and was surprised when his father followed. The man crossed the room to place one hand on Dorian’s shoulder and the other scratched at Cal’s head. “Just know that if you ever need a place to stay, our home is always open.” Dorian turned his head away, his expression unreadable.

It was another minute before his dad left the room, grabbing a glass of water before disappearing up the stairs with Cal on his heels. 

Cullen expected some accusation from Dorian, but it never came. There was only silence as he finished their lunches and collected two old, hiking backpacks. He handed the smaller one to Dorian. 

The silence persisted as they headed out to Cullen’s rusty, beaten up black and red jeep. His breath ghosted on his lips as the sun had not yet made an appearance to chase away the cold. However, the horizon had already begun to turn a hazy gray, promising its arrival.

The quiet morning air was rudely disrupted as the jeep’s engine rolled a moment before starting. Dorian had clambered into the passenger’s seat, his knees drawn up to his chest as he leaned his head against the window. The oversized work boots Cullen had given him looked comical in comparison to the Vint’s small ankles, but with enough pairs of socks, they fit well enough.

Cullen allowed the silence to continue until they were out on the road. However, when he turned to finally confront his friend, he realized that Dorian was fast asleep. 

The dashboard clock read 4:15 AM and he didn’t blame the sleeping passenger. Cullen was silently glad he had turned in early. He had had six more hours of sleep than his friend.

After an hour, Skyhold melted away to forest preserve. His jeep hummed in protest against the hills as the sun started to break on the horizon, casting golden red light through the trees. Fiddling with the radio, muffled top 40’s, which Dorian would’ve actively protested against, played; Cullen spared a glance toward Dorian. His mouth hung open, sending a wave of fog across the window, his eyes still closed. The sunrise accentuated the dark circles that had always been carefully covered with make-up. 

Dorian did so much to construct his mask. Cullen had never seen it removed against his will and sadness stabbed his heart at the thought. 

“Wake up sleepy head.” Cullen gave Dorian’s shoulder a measured punch. The Vint snorted, as he was startled to wakefulness, sending a spiteful glare at his friend. 

“Where are we?”

“Haven. Ever been?”

Dorian shook his head.

“Great hiking territory.”

“You know I detest the outdoors.”

“Too bad, you shouldn’t have let me decided the place.” Cullen climbed out of the jeep, stretching his cramped muscles. Driving two and a half hours first thing in the morning was hardly ideal.

Dorian followed cautiously, shouldering his bag and adjusting the unfamiliar clothes. “I am a scholar, a man of academics, what makes you think I have ever hiked?” He muttered and Cullen beamed.

“Oh, quiet down, Haven is an easy trail. You’ll be fine.”

For Cullen, hiking had always been about clearing his mind. Clean air filled his lungs, his focus moved outward to his surroundings and to maneuver his feet over roots and stones. The only noise was the crunch of their footsteps and the early morning calls of birds as the sun steadily began to rise over the horizon.

“Slow down!” Dorian protested as he stumbled for the fifth time. His hand latched onto the straps of Cullen’s backpack like a stubborn child, almost bringing them to a halt. “What is this nonsense supposed to accomplish?”

“Do you want to take a break?” Cullen huffed in response. They weren’t even a quarter of the way there.

The vint furrowed his brow, but shook his head. “Just stop having such a long stride,” he chastised, and Cullen slowed so they could walk side by side. “The rearview may be nice, but I’d rather speak to your face than your ass.”

“So, you’re going to talk now?” Cullen flinched, that came out harsher than he had meant it.

Dorian’s eyes wandered out into the trees, tucking his hands in to his pockets. “I guess I do owe some kind of explanation.”

“When you show up at my window at three am drunk and crying, yeah.”

“I was not crying.”

“You had been.”

The silence that followed was thick enough to slice with a knife.

“I care about you, Dorian. You don’t need to hide anything from me.” Cullen wrapped an arm across his friend’s shoulders and was glad when he was shaken off. 

Dorian took a shuddering breath, leaning heavily into Cullen’s side. “I came out to my parents. It went about as well as you’d expect.”

Cullen’s breath caught in his chest. Dorian’s sexuality hadn’t been a secret to him for some time, and honestly had never been much of a surprise in the first place. However, the fact that he would confess to his parents, well, that was the surprise. 

The forest seemed to still around them and Cullen realized both of them were frozen in their tracks. New tears welled up in his friend’s eyes, and against all his better senses, Cullen gathered Dorian into his arms. No matter how tight he squeezed, it felt as if he couldn’t bring his friend close enough. He had no words to offer, so this was the best he could muster. 

“Want to keep going? We haven’t even reached the best part yet.” Cullen said after a few minutes. He felt Dorian nod against his chest.

“Yes. I would love that.”

The path steadily started to rise and their idle chat turned into labored breathing. When it finally leveled out, another new challenge faced Dorian. He balked at the sight of the rock face. “We are going to climb that?” He said, his face paling at the thought. “Isn’t there a way around?”

“Nope,” Cullen popped his lips, a grin tugging at his lips. “This is the last part, are you ready? It’s only about fourteen feet.”

“Only about fourteen feet, he says right before they both fall to their doom.” Dorian snapped, but after a moment grimly nodded.

Cullen went up first, making slow and deliberate movements that were easy for Dorian to copy. Once he hauled himself up and over the ledge, he offered a hand down that was waved away. 

“I can do this.” Dorian said through gritted teeth as he clambered up the last few feet. He rolled over beside Cullen in the thin grass, panting but smiling. “Cullen Rutherford, are you trying to kill me?”

“There are easier ways of accomplishing that.” He said, climbing to his feet and offering a hand, which Dorian took this time. “With less complaining too.” With both of them standing, Cullen set off on the last stretch of path. “Our destination is just up ahead.”

The sun had stretched well above the horizon like a lazy cat, arching golden light across the treetops below them. Cullen stood at the edge of Haven Cliff, his toes curling on the edge of the rock as he stretched out his arms. He smiled against the warmth on his face.

“You’re suicidal, Rutherford. Get back here!” Dorian called from a safe distance.

“Perish the thought!” Cullen said in a poor attempt to mimic the vint’s accent. “Come over here before I have to drag you.”

There was a huff, but there was a satisfying plop as a backpack was dropped onto the grass. Cautiously, Dorian crept to the edge before he lowered himself to the ground. He didn’t have the trust in his balance that Cullen possessed. 

Below them, forest and rolling hills stretched out for miles. A lazy river coursed just beyond the first clump of trees, and Dorian smiled at the same time Cullen spotted a group of otters along the bank. In the golden, morning light, the view was worthy of a priceless, renaissance painting.

Once he had enough of worrying poor Dorian, Cullen sat down beside his friend, letting his feet dangle over the edge. “Is this ‘away’ enough for you?”

“Well, it is definitely not what I intended.” Dorian leaned back, his eyes never leaving the valley below. “But wholly worth the work.”

Cullen knocked their shoulders together with a smile. “See, this is why I love hiking. You should come with me more often.”

“If you will have me, I would love to.”

A contented silence fell between them, both boys preferring to stare out into the distance with calm smiles. Slowly, Dorian leaned over, and rested his head against Cullen’s shoulder. The blond fought against the bright red blush that threatened to creep across his face. For a moment, his eyes flickered from the horizon down to Dorian’s hand, resting on his knee, curiously free from his usual collection of rings. 

The brief urge to reach out and grab it nearly overwhelmed Cullen, before he cleared his throat. The noise startled Dorian and the warm weight on his shoulder disappeared. “Stay here,” the blond insisted, climbing to his feet.

The cliff was almost barren compared to the land that surrounded it. The grass was rough and scraggly underneath their feet, a few forlorn bushes decorated the edges, and a solitary tree stood in triumph above all the others. Cullen kicked at the leaves around its base until he uncovered a familiar flat rock. He picked it up, weighing it in his hands, before sitting back down beside Dorian.

The top had been weathered down until it was completely smooth. The bottom, after being buried for a few seasons, was covered in a thick layer of mud. Cullen wiped it on his jeans, leaving streaks of brown.

“Don’t do that,” Dorian tried to protest as Cullen reexamined the bottom. The carving was almost legible, but only almost. With a wicked grin, he reached over and swept it over Dorian’s pants. 

“I hope you understand that I will not be cleaning these before returning them.” The vint lifted his nose disdainfully, glaring down at the muddy patch. 

“Duly noted.” Cullen muttered, scraping the last of the mud off with his thumbnail. Four letters, well worn with time, began to appear. Dorian leaned over, trying to get a good look as Cullen cradled the stone in his hands. 

“Are those—?”

“My parents initials. This was their favorite place when they were dating.”

Dorian chuckled. “Charming. You must bring all the girls here.”

Cullen’s smile softened, soaking in the sound of his friend’s laugh. It came as a relief. Maybe, after some time, Dorian would be alright after all. And he would be there every step of the way.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar burst of confidence burned in Cullen’s chest. “No, just you.”

Dorian’s laugh faded, and guarded, gray eyes seemed to trace Cullen’s face in search of the punch line for a joke Cullen had not intended to make. An uncertain frown marred his features, and Cullen knew he had a choice to make. Backpedal, laugh as if he hadn’t meant a word, or he could take a leap of faith.

With a shaking hand, he cupped the side of Dorian’s face and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. Simple and innocent, yet embarrassment seared across Cullen’s face as he pulled away, made even worse by the look of pure shock on Dorian’s. 

“Sorry, forget I ever—“ The apology stung Cullen’s throat, but it was cut short by Dorian’s face cracking into an enormous smile. His slight frame began to shake with hysterical laughter, and Cullen practically had to catch him as he fell into the blond’s chest. His shoulders shook with unrestrained giggles and Cullen fought a smile.

“You—“ he struggled to squeeze out words between gasping breaths. “I can’t believe you. What even was that?” Cullen flinched at the words, slowly removing his hand from his friend’s back. He had pushed too far. Regret rose like bile in his throat until Dorian managed to gain control over his laughter. “Who taught Cullen Rutherford how to kiss? That was pathetic.”

Hands grabbed at the front of his shirt, bringing their lips crashing together in desperation. After the initial shock, Cullen sighed against the kiss and closed his eyes, allowing Dorian control. 

For a moment, life stopped. All that remained was Dorian Pavus, Cullen Rutherford, and the golden valley below them. And it was perfect.


End file.
